


The One Where Rain Is in Heat

by catacombsaint



Category: Ghost (Sweden Band)
Genre: M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2018-06-11
Packaged: 2019-05-20 22:33:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14903361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catacombsaint/pseuds/catacombsaint
Summary: The new bass ghoul is in heat, but he gets by with a little help from his friends.





	The One Where Rain Is in Heat

**Author's Note:**

> oh my god i haven't posted a fic since august, yikes...anyway, i wanted to write some smut involving the new ghouls we met on the rats tour, because i love them.
> 
> as usual, this takes place within the overarching lincopiaverse universe created by my fiance and i, which is why the ghouls are the way they are. thanks for reading!

“We’re missing one,” Chops said, pointing to count at each ghoul who stood outside the bus in the early morning. He wasn’t quite used to travelling with such a large group of his Brothers and Sisters. Back home in Lincopia this wasn’t even a small handful of the several hundred ghouls that occupied the castle, but here, on the road in a country that some in the group had never even seen before, keeping track of everyone wasn’t exactly easy.

Not that Chops had volunteered to become the unofficial leader of this gaggle of ghouls. That just kind of happened, and he clearly wasn’t cut out for it—this early into the tour and he’d already lost someone. 

The others didn’t look bothered by this. The multi-instrumentalist ghoul had already slithered away somewhere, but he was prone to disappearing for a few hours at a time. That left Cirrus and Cumulus, the girls, who were already taking off down the street, hand-in-hand, with Dewdrop trailing behind them.

“ _ Egt bryt mänt _ ,” Cirrus called.  _ We want food. _ Fair enough. 

“ _ Mänt _ ,” Dewdrop echoed. 

Chops then turned to the lanky earth ghoul, who looked up from his phone to shrug awkwardly. “Yeah, yeah, you go get your  _ mänt _ too,” the aether ghoul sighed. The drummer skittered off to join the others, leaving Chops alone to count on his fingers. 

“One air ghoul...two earth...I’m an aether...one fire...so that just leaves Dew and the other wat— _ oh! _ The new guy!” 

How in the world did he forget about the new bassist? 

Climbing back into the bus, he rapped his knuckles on a wall. “‘Ello?” he called, “Anyone still in here?” 

No answer, but he couldn’t imagine anywhere else that the newest, youngest ghoul in the group could be. He racked his brain, trying to remember where the water ghoul had been last, or where he could have gone. Had he even left the bus? He certainly wouldn’t be with the Cardinal. The others didn’t even seem to notice he was gone. If the multi-instrumentalist had seen him, he was no help, either; going missing-in-action was normal for him. 

“Hullooo…” Chops moved farther into the bus. “Rain?” 

About halfway to the back of the vehicle, the aether ghoul stopped. A very unmistakable scent was hitting his sensitive nose. Earthy, heavy, spicy and sweet, like the smell of a ritual—there was another ghoul somewhere in this bus. He took a deeper inhale and detected another undertone to the smell. It was something similar to ozone, as if a storm had just ended. Rain had only taken his initiation maybe a year ago, but he’d already developed his unique scent. Following the trail, he stopped again at the very back of the bus. 

He heard something. He listened. He heard it again.

A...whimper? It came from the curtained-off bunk beds used for sleeping on long stretches of driving. All but one were left with their curtains opened, their inhabitants’ clothes and other things scattered in individual nests of messy blankets. Rain slept in the topmost bunk on the left side. That was the only one with its curtain still closed, and Chops picked up more barely-audible whines and whimpers coming from behind it.

“Oi, Rain, you alright in there?” No answer. Now he was  _ really _ concerned. He grabbed the curtain and yanked it back. “Hey! Can you...oh.”

Any questions Chops might’ve had were answered by the pathetic scene he was presented with. The skinny bassist was curled up into a ball, his back facing the aether ghoul. He was almost fully clothed, missing his jacket, suspenders and tie, with his dress shirt wrinkled and hitched up around his ribs. His unzipped pants sat low enough only for his noodly, barely-grown tail to droop out over the backside, curling and relaxing anxiously. Sweltering body heat radiated off of him, as did his scent, which was potent enough to make the aether ghoul’s head spin. Most telling of all was the absolute mountain of crumpled-up tissues that lay surrounding him, and the empty box they’d come from.

“Been busy, have you?” Chops snorted. Rain still said nothing, like he was too exhausted to speak. Based on the sight of him, it was a marvel he was even awake. Good thing he was a water ghoul, because any normal human person probably would’ve shrivelled up and died of dehydration after the night Rain apparently had. “Ah, man, I remember my first heat. Good times, those.”

Shivering and trembling, Rain tried stiffly to peer back over his shoulder to look at him. The aether ghoul got only a partial view of his flushed cheeks and the messy brown hair glued to his forehead by sweat. “What...the fuck...is  _ heat _ ?” he croaked. 

“This, mate,” Chops chuckled, gesturing to the mess of a ghoul in front of him. “What, you thought your knob came down with a case of the demons?”

Rain wasn’t amused.

“Happens to all of us ghoulies,” he added. “Don’t worry, nobody told me about it either. Found out the hard way just like you.” There was a joke there, waiting to happen, but the bassist obviously wasn’t in a joking mood. Typical first-heat moodiness. “Shame about the timing, though. You look like you slept in your clothes...well, I guess you didn’t actually  _ sleep _ . Were you in here all night like this?” 

The water ghoul gave a weak nod, then let his head fall limply back onto his pillow.

“You poor bastard,” Chops remarked.

“Does it go away?” Rain mumbled.

“‘Course it does, otherwise we’d all have chafed-up dicks.”

“When?” 

“Depends.”

Rain groaned in agony.

“It’s kinda like...when a girl gets her period, I guess you could say. Could be gone tomorrow, could take a week. Except it’s, you know, not blood that’s coming out of you. When it happens to me, sometimes all it takes is one good... _ splurgh _ .” Chops mimed something crudely resembling ejaculation with his hands. 

“I’m gonna die,” the water ghoul said.

“Oh, don’t be dramatic,” Chops laughed again, “I can think of worse ways to go, anyway.” He patted Rain supportively on the shoulder—at which he gasped and his entire body tensed—and turned to leave. “I’m going to go catch up with the others. I’ll leave you here to take care of your business, yeah? You need anything?”

Rain groaned again, something incomprehensible and muffled, but Chops was already stepping off the bus. 

“Good luck, mate!” 

With the guitarist gone, Rain could finally roll over onto his back, relieving the pressure he’d been putting on his still tragically-hard dick. He sighed at the relief, but it barely helped to quell the aching, throbbing, burning need between his legs. Hoping it would soothe him more, he rolled his pants further down his hips. The friction of fabric sliding over his cock drew strained swears from him. 

He knew that becoming a ghoul meant that his body would change. He willingly took initiation, after all, and he survived it, and he was ready for the physical metamorphosis that followed. He could take the pains and discomfort of growing his horns and tail, he could even stomach the horror of his teeth and fingernails falling out to make way for fangs and claws. But no one told him about this “heat” shit. Heat was, apparently, a well-kept secret nightmare that nobody in the Church felt warranted some kind of disclaimer.

Being able to stay hard for over twelve hours would’ve sounded fucking awesome right up until the moment that he actually had to suffer through it. This was decidedly  _ not _ awesome. It didn’t even feel good to jerk off anymore, but he couldn’t stop, and so here he was, reaching for his cock again. He’d lost count of how many times he’d came since last night, and his mind was too fuzzy to try and count the soiled tissues around him in his little nest of shame. Sometimes he didn’t cum at all; he would just stroke himself until his hand got tired in a vain attempt to reach some kind of end that never got any closer. 

It was a miracle that nobody had heard him last night. Everything was normal until some time around the end of yesterday’s ritual. In the shower afterward, he jerked off, but that wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. The adrenaline and heat of a ritual always left him feeling a little wired. It was on the bus later, after the clergy had departed for their next destination, that he began to squirm in his seat. The rumble of the wheels over the road seemed to vibrate and tingle through his entire body. Strange, filthy fantasies filled his head, dirty thoughts about everybody from his fellow band ghouls to Sister Imperator, and eventually he was forced to excuse himself to the back of the bus, claiming that he was tired and going to sleep early. He really, genuinely did try to get some sleep, but  _ that _ didn’t last very long. Within an hour there was one hand down his pants and another stuffed into his mouth to muffle the small noises he made.

Now, it felt like he couldn’t ever sleep again until he satisfied whatever the hell it was that his body wanted from him. But he was out of ideas, and his hand and wrist were aching—it wasn’t like he could switch hands, either, because only one remained that hadn’t grown its claws, and he wasn’t about to risk slicing his balls off—so, in desperation, he wriggled around to reposition himself. Slipping his pants down even further, and unbuttoning his shirt to try and air out his burning skin, he flipped over to his front. Then he stuffed his pillow between his legs. If he were thinking rationally, he might regret rubbing his dick all over his only pillow, but clear thinking had long since gone out the window.

Humping his pillow in his tour bus bunk might have been the lowest point of his life so far, but it felt good. The fabric was soft and forgiving, a nice break from the white-knuckled death grip he used with his hand, and the mattress offered a good place to bury his face and muffle his moans. And moan he did; there was nobody around right now to hear him and all the pent-up noise he was forced to keep inside during the night poured out at once. His voice came out broken, sounding more like crying than masturbation, but in all honesty the line between those two things was very, very blurry at the moment.

For a little while, Rain got the most peace he’d had since yesterday, with no one but himself and his pillow. 

“That isn’t going to do you any good,” a smooth voice spoke, close to Rain’s ear. 

His eyes popped open and he threw himself back against the wall of his bunk. “Jesus Christ!”

“Don’t say that,” the multi-instrumentalist ghoul said plainly. He stood with his arms crossed and resting on the edge of Rain’s mattress, sitting his chin on his forearms. Dark eyes stared out from behind his mask. 

“Wh-Wha...?” In a futile effort to protect his modesty, Rain scrambled to cover himself, grabbing his pillow and blanket and slapping them hastily over his bare skin. “Whatever, when the fuck did you get here?!” 

“I was around.” The larger ghoul blinked slowly. Even with his mask on, Rain could see the grin spreading slowly across his lips. He didn’t know what the multi-instrumentalist’s face looked like—come to think of it, he was the only one of his bandmates that Rain had  _ never  _ seen without his mask—but he didn’t need to, at least not to be able to detect the cheeky smirk underneath the metallic surface.

“You were in here with me the whole time?” 

“Not the whole time. I was just, you know, around.”

The water ghoul most certainly did not know. 

There was an awkward silence then, Rain shifting his gaze uncomfortably from left to right while the fire ghoul remained standing troublingly still at the side of his bunk, still resting his chin on his arms. 

“Y—”

“Do you want help?”

“What?”

“You’re in heat. We— _ I _ can help you with that, if you want.”

Rain blinked dumbly. On a list of people he would’ve expected to show up while he was trying to jerk off, let alone offer to help him do so, this ghoul wouldn’t make the top hundred. It was bizarre enough that he was even standing there to speak to him; typically he was only seen during rituals or on the bus between them, and never had Rain heard his voice outside of backing vocals. This was the first he’d ever heard this ghoul speak, and every new thing he said was more bizarre than the last. There was, however, a strange kind of charm to him, a weird appeal to the cool, blunt way he spoke. Maybe it was the heat, Rain thought, making him thirsty for anything with a pulse. Regardless, the idea of taking this ghoul up on his offer wasn’t turning him off.

The fire ghoul shifted to balance his chin on his hand. “Jerking off and crying isn’t going to help. Neither is your mattress. What you need is someone else. Heat is a mating urge, after all.”

“Wait, you want to  _ mate _ with me?!” 

The water ghoul’s naïveté was so pure, the multi-instrumentalist had to laugh. “Not exactly. Something more like a helping hand. Or maybe a mouth?” Using his thumb, he pushed his mask up just enough to expose the bottom half of his face. Sharp fangs peeked out between his smirking lips, and the way he ran his black, forked tongue over them made Rain’s stomach flutter. Judging by his strong, stubbly jawline, this ghoul’s face was just as handsome as his voice. Thinking again, Rain came to the conclusion that he wouldn’t mind putting his cock between those lips at all. Or, again, maybe that was just the heat talking. Not that it mattered; the opportunity was here and Rain wasn’t going to pass it up, because at this point he was afraid he might actually die if he didn’t do something about his current state.

Sheepishly, under the larger ghoul’s unwavering eye contact, he removed the pillow and blanket that covered him, wincing at the fabric sliding over his sensitive skin. He let his legs fall further open and that was all the invitation the multi-instrumentalist needed, releasing the magic that concealed his claws and digging them into Rain’s legs with just enough force to hook him and drag him closer, but not enough to pierce his skin. Rain yelped anyway, caught off-guard. The fire ghoul laughed at him again, but wasted no time spreading his legs even farther apart, then moving to tease his fingers around his inner thighs. His hand, tan skin contrasting sharply with the water ghoul’s pale flesh, came to rest just underneath his cock. 

He was still hard—he hadn’t been soft since yesterday—but not completely so. His dick laid heavily to one side, desperate for a kind of attention that Rain wasn’t giving to it. 

“Aw,” the fire ghoul tutted, taking him into his hand and dragging his thumb with a feather-light touch up the underside. “Haven’t even grown in the little ridges yet…”

Rain sucked in a gasp and curled in toward the touch. “L-little what?”

“You’ll find out eventually,” the multi-instrumentalist said smugly. Rain opted not to waste time pondering whatever it was that he was talking about. He was too busy squirming his hips around, trying to get more of that wonderfully warm but too-soft grasp. All ghouls, even Rain himself, possessed a naturally higher body temperature than they once did as humans, but  _ fire _ ghouls in particular lived up to their element, with a pleasantly burning touch, as if real flames lurked just below the surface of their skin. The multi-instrumentalist’s palms were rough and hot in just the right way to leave Rain aching for him to…

“ _ Come on _ ,” the water ghoul hissed. 

There was a tense moment between them, Rain staring flush-faced down at the other ghoul, who stared back up at him. Then, finally, he gave him what he wanted, wrapping his fingers around his cock and stroking him, but Rain’s impatience had him convinced he was more prepared for it than he really was. He groaned and tensed and twitched in the fire ghoul’s hand as he worked him, throwing his head back and clenching his fists up in the bedding. The multi-instrumentalist said nothing, delighted just to enjoy the sounds of Rain’s wanton whimpers and slicked-up cock.

The bassist was soon at the end of his rope, cursing up a storm and moving his bony hips in time with the fire ghoul’s strokes. He pounded his palms on the mattress to signal that he was close, and his tail thwacked it at the same rhythm. Instead of finishing him off, the multi-instrumentalist slowed his pace, which Rain protested in a whine—he didn’t have enough breath for words right now—then took his hand away entirely. Rain wasn’t in the mood for this game. The look in his eyes, the blown-out, glossy pupils so large that they didn’t look their usual green anymore, told the multi-instrumentalist everything he needed to know. The expression he wore on his face was entirely nonhuman, a hungry, primal look that only a ghoul in heat could give, even if the rest of his body hadn’t yet finished its transformation. 

Frustrated, Rain tried to sit back up, trying to grab at the fire ghoul’s hands or whatever he could reach, but when the multi-instrumentalist grabbed his tail, which had been hanging limply off the edge of the bunk, he was easily pushed back down. The fire ghoul assumed it must be terribly sensitive. Rain proved him right; he seemed to be getting just as much stimulation from having it touched as he did from a hand on his cock. Considering it in his hands, the fire ghoul felt out the flexing muscles and each knobby vertebra under the smooth, young skin. Eventually, the tail would reach the ground and grow its spade, but for now it was barely a foot long, coiling and curling around his fingers like it had a mind of its own. 

“I’ve never touched a tail this new,” he mused, not particularly expecting an answer. Glancing up, he saw that Rain wasn’t even looking at him—he was too busy arching off of the mattress, eyes tightly shut, running his hands over his own exposed torso. His clawed hand raked white lines across his ribs, while the other found his chest to pinch a nipple. “You know, Rain,” he went on, “We...I like watching you. During rituals, I mean. You’re making for an excellent ghoul.”

Writhing and keening in his hands, the water ghoul was making it very difficult for the multi-instrumentalist to control the impulse to yank him out of the bunk and fuck him properly. With each gasping exhale he seemed to give off more pheromone-laced scent for the fire ghoul to inhale, intoxicating him with, like he’d said himself, the urge to  _ mate _ .

But Rain wasn’t ready for that, yet. Probably. 

Instead, the multi-instrumentalist pushed his mask up just enough to allow him room to use his mouth, but not to expose his face. Rain was still touching himself, in his own little world, and so the fire ghoul decided to get his attention. Taking the bassist’s gangly legs in his hands, he swung them so that they rested on top of his shoulders, bringing his face in as close as possible to the smaller ghoul’s cock. Starting at his balls, he licked a wet trail up to where he could slip his tongue underneath his foreskin. 

Rain sounded like he might start crying. If he wasn’t completely broken after the handjob, then the forks of the fire ghoul’s tongue swirling around the head of his cock had done the trick. It felt so good it almost hurt. His muscles twitched involuntarily, toes curling and lithe abdominals tensing under his sweat-sheened skin. Had anyone been passing by outside the bus, they would’ve received an earful of the slew of curses that fell from Rain’s lips; his voice grew louder and more incomprehensible with every caress of the fire ghoul’s tongue until the sloppy sounds he made were all but drowned out by Rain’s moaning and swearing. 

“Oh, fuck, I’m fucking close,” Rain choked out, the first coherent thing he’d said in what felt like hours. “I-I’m gonna—fuck, shit, fuck—”

But the multi-instrumentalist wasn’t ready to stop toying with him. He could do this all day. 

Rain, however, could not. 

When the fire ghoul pulled away, something snapped in Rain’s mind, and all the restraint with which he’d been suppressing his primal urges gave way at once. If he didn’t get off soon he was going to fucking explode, so in his desperation he scrambled to an upright position, reaching again for the larger ghoul. In his hazy mental state, he barely saw where or what he was flailing and grasping at. His hand lashed out, colliding with the multi-instrumentalist’s mask. It clattered off of his head and onto the floor.

The shock of seeing the fire ghoul’s face brought Rain to a standstill. He was... _ handsome _ . So handsome, in fact, that Rain didn’t stand still for very long; instead he grabbed a fistful of the multi-instrumentalist’s dark, thick hair and yanked him back to his cock. Obediently, he opened his lips, letting the water ghoul control his movements. 

This was a side of Rain that he liked. He did his best to work with the water ghoul’s frantic motions, trying to stroke him in time with the erratic thrusts into his throat, but Rain was so aggressive in his determination to face-fuck him at his own pace that the fire ghoul gave up on trying for any control and instead settled to brace his hands on Rain’s thighs, claws finding purchase in his skin and leaving marks for him to find later. 

Rain growled at the sudden sting in his flesh, not a raspy human sound, but a real, ghoulish rumble, deep in his chest and even sending a tingle through the fire ghoul’s body. Then he left some marks of his own on his scalp as he finally came, digging fingers into his head and slamming him down on his cock until the larger ghoul’s nose was buried in his sparse pubic hair.

The multi-instrumentalist moaned around him. A wet mess leaked from his lips as he choked, then swallowed. 

Rain held him there, rolling his hips through his orgasm, until the other ghoul slapped him on the thigh to signal that he was running out of air.

Neither ghoul spoke for what felt like several minutes. 

“Fuck...sorry,” Rain finally sighed, with heaving breaths, like his humanity was slowly returning to him. Below him, the larger ghoul chuckled, wiping the mess from his face with the back of his hand. 

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, moving out from between Rain’s legs. “Feel better?” 

And Rain  _ did _ feel better, now that he was thinking clearly enough to realize it. He was actually, finally, going soft. He nodded shyly and, suddenly self-aware and self-conscious, began to pull himself together. Hopping down from the bunk, he took in the features of the larger ghoul’s face while he shimmied his pants back up onto his hips, making no effort to hide the fact that he was staring. The multi-instrumentalist picked his mask back up from the floor, giving Rain a wink before putting it back on. 

“So, uh…” Rain started, “Thanks for the help, um…”

“Sol,” the fire ghoul stated. 

“Huh?”

“Sol. You can call me that.”

Rain felt like he might be learning something that none of his fellow ghouls knew. “Well then, thanks, Sol.”

With no more words, Sol patted the bassist on the shoulder, nodded, and left the bus. 

Rain got to work cleaning up his bunk.


End file.
